


Party Like It's 2009

by roguefaerie (samidha)



Series: Reconcilliation (Reaper Jessica Moore) [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Established Relationship, Jessica Moore Lives, Multi, Time Streams, Time Travel, Unintentional Time Travel, Unstuck In Time, incursions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 08:49:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13655583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/samidha/pseuds/roguefaerie
Summary: Sam's slipping between time streams.Follows Reconcilliation (Books/Parts 1-4), this is book 1.5 or 2 of that 'verse, A Skip in Time





	Party Like It's 2009

In the morning, in a way, Sam’s gone again. He’s unsure where he’s gone to, and so are they, he knows. He can see fire, and he can see Jess, and he knows and wants to tell them there’s a timeline where he saw her burn; he saw it all.

Sometimes he’s been there, though it’s a shadowy half-awareness at times, seeing it out of the corner of his eye. A shadow of a negative of a shadow. 

And he can hear himself scream.

What he knows is that there was fire, and he knows that Jess burned. He knows that happened. And other things did too, but the fire is what chases him into his dreams, makes him wake sweating and screaming her name.

*~*~*

Jessica reaches for him. “I know. I know. I know. I know. I’m sorry, Sam,” she says, and Dean hovers in the doorway, then crosses the threshold and stands nearby, watchful as ever.

“I’ve got you, love,” she says.

She taps his ring a few times and he remembers it’s there, squeezes it tighter around his finger and sighs.

And his world lurches.

He comes a little bit further into the present.

There are two soft voices calling him home and he knows them.

“She’s all right, Sammy,” Dean is saying. “We got her home. It’s all right, Sam. You stay there as long as you need, but you don’t have to. We got her out.”

Sam’s brain rebels a little bit. They did, yes, but not in time, not in time to avoid--

But then he remembers it, the strength of the bond then, and he wonders dimly if that’s what he misses the most, the surety of it all.

Dean is watching him close and says with his up and at ‘em voice, “C’mon, Sammy. Party like it’s 2009.”

And it is. If Dean says it is, then it is. If Dean says it is. Then it is.

“Music?” Sam croaks, pinching the ring against his flesh.

“Sure,” Dean says.

“Jess’s music,” Sam says. His eyes are clearing, but not without considerable strain on his face. “Contemporary music, Dean. Please.”

Dean raises an eyebrow and looks at Jess.

She knows, though.

The bond isn’t as strong as it was when she could power through anything from the spirit realm, but it’s still there.

 _It’s to keep time. Keep time with us_ , she says in thoughts, and Dean realizes what she means.

They might smile, make a joke of it, some time down the line, later. Maybe there are jokes to be made yet. They will have time for that when this passes--if--when--when it passes. But this is serious; it always will be. Besides that, Dean is just a little off-center, still spooked by the screaming. and the way he has to remind himself he doesn’t smell smoke. 

He nods, then shrugs, pushing all of that down. It’s not time for it. Not until they’ve got Sam firmly back with them.

Jess hits a button on the nearby laptop and primitive Internet radio streams out of it.

Sam lets out a sigh. “Love you, Jess. Don’t ever forget it. You always know what to do.”

Jess smiles a little, tired and maybe timid. “Okay, Sam. Love you.”

“Will you both stay? Please?”

“My shift at the garage isn’t til later,” Dean says, magnanimous in a way but also truthful. “You got me, Sammy. I’m right here.” Maybe he’d beg off, even. It would depend.

Sam nods. When Sam is really present-Sam, he knows all of that, that he’s got Dean wrapped around a finger whether he intends things that way or not. He offers his own shaky smile. “Okay, Dean. Thanks.” 

They let Sam take up the middle of the bed and they each curl around him, letting the Internet serenade them with anything but mullet rock.

“2009,” Sam muses.

“Fall. Fall 2009, Sammy. That’s where we are.”

“And Bobby?”

“That’s where Bobby is, too.”

“Good, Dean. Good. I don’t want to go backwards.”

Even if he will. Eventually, he will.

Sam knows that when Dean was younger, he wasn’t ever sure how much his little brother absorbed. But now, when they were all together, in the same time stream, Sam knew that Dean knew the truth, that Sam had understood it all. The resultant PTSD had been so bad that, well, _this_ had happened. Sure, it’s the kind of thing that might happen to a Winchester, but that didn’t make it easy.

Still, it’s one thing to think that, know it personally, and it’s another to see it on Dean’s face, all plain and obvious the way Dean always is.

Sam gives him a bit of the hairy eyeball. “I’m fine, Dean. We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

He sounds a little defensive, even to his own ears. He also knows it’s exactly the kind of thing Dean would say, and that means it’ll either fall totally flat to his brother, or it’ll work.

Dean nods slowly, giving the impression, at least, that it’ll work this time.

“Yeah, Sammy. We will.”

And Sam knows that Dean will do his best to make good on that statement. It’s the best Dean knows how to do.


End file.
